the stoneman has a heart
its just hidden under rock;
jack frost is cool
but his is a warm touch
despite him seeming icy

the "hideous freaks and dregs"
dredged up from "impropriety"
shoeshine and maitre d
they are well mannered,
some might make one die it seems,
they say being kind can be murdering
is it true for the murderee?

there's no need to be alone
so long as someone wants you
no reason to be sad
so long as there's happiness to be had
not for you

not a need to be afraid
unless you live with your fears
one track one line, a straightaway
only left to shift the gears
not for you

this machine
this marvel of a beast
a prize itself
but not for you

we stood tall;
free and unabridged
a testament to our youths

but when they called us down
we stayed standing
our height shrunk
wrinkles worn on torn porcelain
a graying of old stone

we grew fatter off decadent fruit
while caged animal fed on imprisoned others
and the minority was culled to a head
in internment camps
in privatized prisons
in the courts
and the legislator's building
in the very creation of the nation
stillborn at conception
an aborted fetus carried to term
delivered, to be chucked to the wayside
weened off the milk of a tormenting yearn
to make, to build, to think, and learn
but we stifle that now
in favor of rockets to fly
leaning toward oil to burn
will there be a scream when we die
or will this silence hold firm?

reading words, of hues emery
darkening shades of the fastly falling frenzy
awash with the world
haunted by the memories
of those things here and gone,
still the jabs come,
by no tangible entity

iridescent burning out
wellspring of love
running dry to match the mouth
of one mighty
Huascarán